Allan
by Creepy-Pasta
Summary: Spidey knows he has fans, he's seen a few, but never gets the chance to get to know them. Then there is Allan. If there was one fan he will remember always, it has to be Allan.


He was that orange-haired kid with the bowl haircut. I have seen him plenty of times in New York. Now that I think about it, I've seen the kid a lot on my adventures. First, when I was confronted by Director Fury after the incident with Trapster; I think the poor kid had his hands glued to a lamppost.

Then there was that time in the subway when I was escaping what turned out to be one of Doc Oct's weird octo-bots. And my pants had a tear in them...

And the time when Flash got ahold of my costume thanks to Sam and started parading around in it. The kid saw him and was picked up and placed on Flash's shoulders.

It's actually pretty sad that I've seen this kid a million times in New York, and I didn't know his name. And what's more embarrassing is that I was asked personally by his mother to visit him in the hospital. I mean, he's a massive Spidey fan and I've got no clue about who he is. His mom waved me down from my perch on a lampost and asked if I could visit her son on Tuesday, so I agreed. I mean, how can I say no to that? She says his friends nicknamed him Arachkid. Kind of like Arachnid, but with a _kid_ instead of _nid_. Kind of a cute play on words. Apparently, he loved the nickname so much his parents started calling him that. She even pulled out a cute photo of him on Halloween wearing his own Spider-Man costume-minus the mask. It was a good thing he hadn't put the mask on or else I wouldn't have recognized him. When I saw his picture and heard about his condition, I knew that I had to say my respects to this avid Spidey fan.

So here I am. Visiting Arachkid.

I know it's not my fault I never asked, but... I don't know, I can't shake this feeling I should have taken the time to get to know him. It tears me apart thinking that he might not make it another year.

Entering the hospital, a nurse behind the large white counter immediately called me up. "Mr. Spider-Man?" She asked with tired eyes. She was a tall woman with dark hair and skin, and I'm pretty sure she's seen better days. So have I.

"Yeah, that's me."

She types on her computer and points to the elevator, "You're expected on Floor Three, room 169."

"Thanks," I said and made my way to the elevator. I couldn't help but watch at my reflection glide gently across their nice tile floors, very shiny and clean, with a smooth glossy finish. My mask was the same. The same red color, the same spider-web design that I added myself, and the same reflective lenses that took up a good half of my mask so I could look innocent and cute. At least, I thought the design was cute, but some people are unnerved by it, especially villains when they see their fear-ridden faces stare back at them.

That was my intention, to be honest. I wanted to make sure the villains I fight realized two things. One, they could never see the fear in my eyes. And two, that they were still human. No matter who we are or what powers we have, all of us have a fear of some kind. I know I like to joke around and make puns about the situation I'm in, but to be honest I'm always scared that I won't live through the fight. I'm scared that I won't return home to Aunt May. I'm always scared, but I push past it. I remind myself every day when I see my reflection on the surface of every skyscraper window that I'm a hero, I can save myself anytime I want to. I'm stronger than most, faster, and I'll even inflate my own ego by adding that I'm smarter too. But that will never change that I have the power to save others and the responsibility to use my powers wisely, never taking things too far.

The ride up was slow, with typical elevator music playing in the speakers above. Only twice did the elevator stop, once for a small family with balloons to come aboard. One of their young kids recognized me and started chatting about how "Amazing I am," and "How I'm the coolest super-hero ever." That really settled my nerves and I gave the kid a high-five when he left. He was sweet and I hoped whoever he visited would get better.

The second was a nice old lady who started talking to me, chatting up a storm about her husband and how he "refused to eat his fiber which is why he needs a colonoscopy." I won't lie, halfway through the one-sided conversation, I nearly barfed. Luckily she stepped off and I mentally threw everything she said in an imaginary wastebasket.

Finally, my stop came. I don't know if my legs were made of lead or if my feet were glued to the floor, but my body refused to move for a minute. I managed to do an awkward stilt walk down the hallway looking at the numbers stuck above each door until I saw it: 169. This was it.

* * *

The boy smiles weakly, his eyes shining in merriment, despite the oxygen tube taped to his nose; despite the hundred wires hooked to his body; despite having his blood be drawn out filtered and cleaned through a machine and pumped back in with its twin. "Spider-Man," He rasps in a paper-thin voice, "You came!"

Yeah..." I gulp, drinking this foreboding sight. He was laying down in his hospital bed, several plastic tubes connected to his graying body, with dark circles surrounding his eyes. Yet, despite his predicament, his baby blues still shined with excitement on seeing me, a feeling that should have to lessen the pain, but instead made it worse. I can feel my hands start to shake as I step closer.

My heart jumps into my throat when he suddenly starts to sit up. I twitch repressing my first instinct of asking him not to move. The cords attached to him tighten a little. As does the knot in my stomach. I almost choke at the sight, wishing I could have some sort of power that could cure him. He pats the spot next to him invitingly, "What are you doing? Come closer."

I couldn't disobey. My legs move and I sit myself down on a small chair next to him.

The boy grins and offers his pale white hand, "I'm Allan."

I enclose my red hand around Allan's and note with a heavy heart how weak his grip is. It's like he's not even trying, yet I can see the muscles in his arm move to tighten with every ounce of strength he still has. "N-Nice to meet you, Allan. I'm Spider-Man. But you already know that don't you?"

Allan laughs, the sound is so unpractice and hoarse, at first I couldn't even tell it was a laugh. "Yeah. You're my favorite superhero! You're the coolest guy ever!"

I beam under his praise. It's not every day that I hear someone say that especially an avid fan like him, "Thanks! I'm glad you're a fan!"

Allan smiles, then his eyes flutter for a minute, his head starts to sway in some fatigue. He quickly snaps out of it, cheeks dusting rose in embarrassment. "Sorry I got dizzy..."

I swallow, my eyes flickering with tears. Somehow I manage to talk without my voice breaking, "No problem! You're doing great, Allan, I have to say you're one tough little guy."

His eyes twinkle while his mouth stretched into one of the biggest grins I've ever seen in my life. "You think so?"

I nod, silently noting how his voice was raspy and thin, shriveled my heart into a spitwad. I wish I could have known him sooner. He was one of my biggest fans and I knew almost nothing about him until today. I've seen him a million times in New York and nothing about him stood out. Back then I didn't pay attention, but now I felt like the biggest jerk on the planet for not noticing. "Yeah, you're probably a lot tougher than me."

His grin grows and he raises his arms to flex and playfully punching the air, making his own sound effects as he does, "Poof poof, I'm tougher than Spider-Man!"

I laughed despite myself, "Yeah you are."

He settles down, relaxing back in his bed and smiling at me with those tired eyes of his. "Thank you for visiting me, Spidey. The doctors didn't think you would."

"Of course I would, why wouldn't I?"

Allan shrugs, scratching absently at the IVs stuck in his arm, "Some of them don't like you. I don't know why, you're cool, but they think you're a jerk."

"Am I a jerk to you?"

He looks surprised by my question and immediately shakes his head, "No!"

I smile beneath my mask, "Well that's all I care about. Who cares what they think. I'm here and I'm not going to leave for a while." Internally I cringed. It wasn't that I didn't like Allan, but I knew that New York needed me and Fury would have a cow if I return late again.

Allan seemed to know that. I don't know how, but I guess he picked it up, or maybe he knew that I had a responsibility to the city, "You don't have to. I'm just glad you're here."

I nod my head, not knowing anything else to say. I just allowed our conversation to air itself out and leave us in silence. Allan didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked happy to just be in the same room as me.

We spent most of the day talking about everything. He asked a few questions:

"How did you get your powers?"

"Um... I got bitten by a spider."

"Was it a magic spider?"

"Sort of..." I didn't know how to explain radioactivity to a nine-year-old. "You can say that. It's a miracle that I survived."

He grins, "That's because you're the coolest!"

I listened as Allan spoke about his family. His parents, grandparents, his older brother, and all of his friends. They were all so supportive and he knows that he's not going to last. When Allan talked about the inevitable, a deep sadness took root in him and he grew worried.

"Sometimes, I think they are waiting for me to die." He admits quietly. I cock my head, "Who?"

"My family. I think they're waiting. I know it hurts them and I hate scaring them like this. I want to get better, but I heard what the doctors said, I'm not going to live much longer and that's really scary. I want to be strong for them, but I'm really scared, Spidey. Is that bad?"

I wanted to cry. No, I wanted to bawl like a baby. This kid, he was so young. He had his whole life ahead of him and for some reason, he couldn't experience the things that someone like me has taken for granted.

I know I've openly complained about my life. How hard it is, how much it sucks juggling being both Spider-Man and Peter Parker, especially when I had to lie to my loved ones, but to be honest I still enjoy my life, even it's setbacks.

Allan though, he wasn't going to last and I can see his life fading away right now.

I sighed, the knot in my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I had to do something, something that this kid could hold on to and it will ease up his pain, even if it's just a little. I didn't want him to be scared.

"You know," I start carefully, reaching out and patting his head gently, "I put myself out there every day and I've come close to death more than once. I try not to think about it all that much, but I know that what I do is dangerous and it can and probably will result in me getting killed one of these days. Despite that, I still go out there and be the best me I can be because I have the power and it's my responsibility. And if there was a way I could go back and fix what made me Spider-Man, I wouldn't do it."

"You wouldn't?"

"No," I shake my head, "I wouldn't. I want to make this world a better place. I want to keep fighting, even if people hate me. I'm not doing it to gain their approval. I'm doing it because I want to because I need to, and it's okay to be scared. That's normal, fear of the unknown, fear of the afterlife, fear of death is completely normal. We are all scared, but I know that there is a place we go to. There is a place we end up once it happens, and funny enough it's not the end. It's just the beginning."

Allan was quiet for a while, drinking in my words. He visibly relaxes and sighs in relief, "Thanks, I needed to hear that."

"No problem."

He smiles weakly at me, "Can I ask you another question, Spidey?"

I nod, "Sure. Anything, I'll answer it."

"Who are you?"

The question didn't catch me by surprise. I actually suspected he was going to ask me sooner or later, a lot of fans have. Without missing a beat, I take a look around the room to make sure no one was watching and then I reached back and pulled off my mask. "My name is Peter Parker, it's nice to meet you, Allan."

* * *

**So this took me forever to write. I've been binge-watching Ultimate Spider-Man from beginning to end and in almost every episode of the first season that kid showed up. The one with the orange hair and green and white shirt. I decided to write about him and see where it would take me. Granted, I haven't written an Ultimate Spider-Man story in a while. I know that the tenses shift a lot in my stories, I have a nasty habit of doing that, so forgive me if the tense shifts again. I tried to fix it here, but I doubt I got it all.**


End file.
